


The Finest Hotel In Cairo

by Beckymonster



Category: Prometheus (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Crack, Gen, Neo-Victorian era, spoilers for Lawrence of Arabia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:15:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckymonster/pseuds/Beckymonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finishing another successful adventure, Doctor Elizabeth Shaw muses on her life, her work and her friendship with the Automaton, David.  Introspection and <i>'Lawrence of Arabia'</i> ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Finest Hotel In Cairo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tibididim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tibididim/gifts).



> This is was borne from watching _Lawrence of Arabia_ at the same cinema I first saw _Prometheus_. How was I to know that the cinema's suggestion that no bags were left on the floor was to allow the bunnies free rein?! 
> 
> My heartfelt thanks to Thursdaynext_27 for her superb and very thorough beta. If it hadn't been for her, this story wouldn't have been half as good. Any remaining issues are all my fault!

As soon as Elizabeth entered the Howeitat Hotel, the finest hotel on the planet of New Mecca, she glanced around awaiting the inevitable.  She could see opulence and comfort, but that wasn’t what she was looking for. David, standing as ever at her side, was looking around curiously, scanning every detail of the environment. He had, no doubt, found it but made no mention of it. 

A hotel as high class as this was bound to have an Automaton alarm, set to discreetly sound whenever one entered their premises.  David, despite his very appearance and mostly human behavior, was still an Automaton and not welcome.   

In the establishments she usually frequented, often nowhere near as fine as the Howeitat, Automatons were tolerated, if only barely. Here they would be considered déclassé, a sign that you had not the wealth to employ human servants rather than Automatons.  But David was no one’s servant.  Not anymore.     

Crossing the hotel lobby, she could hear the genteel whispering from behind hands and fans from the great and the good, seated on ottomans and chaises, enjoying fragrant teas and a cool respite from the midday heat.  She ignored them. Having a reputation as infamous as hers was advantageous. Sometimes.  
Turning up in a high class hotel, after another adventure in the desert; which she would write up and send to Lindelof and Wilson to be serialized in their publications, to be read by millions of readers on a hundred different planets tended to have that effect. 

Before she was halfway across the hotel lobby, the manager appeared in all his suited finery. 

“SabaaH al-khayr,” David began, in faultless Arabic, taking a step forward and bowing courteously to the Manager.  

“SabaaH an-nuur,” the Hotel Manager replied after a short pause, Elizabeth tried not to read too much into that pause on David’s behalf. 

“We were informed that there was a room booked for us.”  David continued as if he had not noticed anything; which he did, he noticed everything.  One of the reasons that made their partnership so successful.

The brief look of distaste that flickered across his face did not escape her notice. After all, a lone woman and an Automaton, dressed in desert robes, presenting themselves in his hotel went against all good manners. Age old custom dictated that he could not speak to her as she was a woman and more recent custom suggested that he did not speak to someone as ‘low’ as David. It was a quandary that was certain.

If Elizabeth didn’t feel so damn tired after her dirgible flight from the desert to the capital, she might be more forgiving.  Right then, all she wanted was a hot bath and a comfortable bed with clean sheets.  It was frustrating that this beautiful, ancient culture had seen fit to bring everything - every custom and tradition from Old Earth - with them to a new planet, new beginnings should be a time for examining the old and trying something new. It was after all, was nearly the 22nd Century.  

“It was arranged by the Sharif of New Mecca, Hussein bin Ali,” Elizabeth spoke up, tiredness overriding good manners. She knew that he would most likely ignore her, but the great and the good would not. If anything it would add fuel to the whispers around them. The papers were already carrying stories (mostly false but until she could file her account with Lindelof and Wilson, they would have to do) of David’s and her escapades in the desert in pursuit of their latest case.  

The manager’s demeanor changed from polite distaste to sycophantic at Elizabeth’s mention of the Sharif’s name; no doubt realizing just who she was and what good having her stay at his hotel could do for business. 

“I will show you to your suite,”  Elizabeth gave a slight nod.

“Shukran jaziilan,”

* * * 

As the two suns began a slow decent from their zenith, Elizabeth stepped out of the palatial shower, wrapped herself up in the comfort of the huge, soft, cotton bathsheets and walked into the suite proper.  

Although such luxury was not her usual style, Elizabeth knew from previous experience that when one was offered a chance to enjoy such delights, take it and be grateful. 

The Sharif had no need to arrange for these accommodations; she and David had been handsomely rewarded for their work on the eventual recovery of the Shepperton Difference Apparatus but he insisted.  

“You enjoyed your shower,”  David noted as she walked towards where her trunk, sent for from the _Prometheus_ , had been stowed.  

“So much so, that I am now wrinkled like a date,” she proclaimed, waving a hand in his direction with a smile.  

A heart beat later “So I see,” he answered with a slight smile.  “I took the liberty of laying some clothes out for you, for dinner.” 

Elizabeth groaned at the idea of leaving this palatial room, “Can we not dine here?” she asked, her shoulders sagging.  

Her question earned a raised eyebrow, “You know we cannot, Doctor Shaw,” he reminded her.  “We are the guests of the Sharif, and his mother, who lives in town, has invited us to dine with her tonight. ”  

“I know, I know,” she petulantly replied as she walked over to the sinfully opulent bed that looked as comfortable as it had felt when she had tested it earlier. She sat down on the coverlet, next to the lavender and purple dress laid out for her. All formal, corseted, silk; so very different from the freeing white cotton robes she had worn in the desert.  “I simply wanted a little time to write and record before we rendezvous with the _Prometheus_ tomorrow.”  

David’s expression softened for a moment, “I understand, Elizabeth, but you will have time to do that on board.” he was right of course, it would take a month to return home. Even with the new ScottFree Drive (technology gained at too high a cost) fitted to _Prometheus_ , travelling among the stars still took time. “I have spoken to Captain Janek and he has agreed to my request that we take the slow route back to Earth,”  

Elizabeth sighed, it wasn’t much but it was a compromise that she could work with.  “Very well,” she muttered as she gathered her clothes up into her arms and disappeared in the direction of the dressing room to change.  

* * * 

Dinner turned out to be a more interesting affair than Elizabeth thought it would be. Abidiya, the Sharif’s mother was an intelligent, thoughtful woman who had taken great delight in scandalizing the entire restaurant by ensuring that David not only had a seat at their table but was also an active participant in the conversation.  

Elizabeth liked her immensely.  

Their dinner conversation took in many topics but mainly concentrated on Elizabeth and David’s adventures together. It gave them a chance to set the topic straight about a number of matters, such as whether the Barnum Sisters had really tried to ‘entice’ David away from her (yes, that was true - with what was for David to say) to the discovery of the Engineers library on Lima Victor 426 and all of their adventures in between. 

One member of Abidiya’s party was a small, bird like, young woman, who was introduced as her amanuensis, Alia. She had spent most of the dinner, sitting across the table from Elizabeth and David, quietly listening to the ebb and flow of conversation. 

As the waiters brought coffee, Alia spoke up, fixing Elizabeth with a curious stare before saying.  

“You wear purple, may I ask, for whom do you mourn?”

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap, under the table, so that no one could see their fine tremor.  It was an honest question that deserved to be answered but for a moment, she wanted to turn to the woman and as polite as could be, tell her that it was none of her damn business; regardless of the insult it would bring to their hostess.  

“For one who was as a husband to me,” Elizabeth stated calmly. She did not look in David’s direction.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Abdliya replied sincerely. “And yet a woman as beautiful and intelligent as Doctor Shaw , does not always need someone by her side.” she nodded towards David. “Present company excepted, naturally,”

“Naturally,” David echoed, nodding his head. Elizabeth could see that Abidiya’s words left an impression on him, the flash of emotion was too quick for others to see, but she noticed it. Impulsively, she reached out, under the table, to gently rest her hand on his arm. She trusted him, it was all that mattered.  

“I will pray that you will one day find someone worthy of you,” Alia, noted, abashed. 

Elizabeth smiled politely as she replied, “Shukran, may it be so,” 

The byplay seemed to satisfy the older woman, who changed the subject to a lighter item.  

It was only later that night, as she prepared for bed, did Elizabeth turn Abidiya’s words in her head.  She had loved Charlie, but now he was dead these three years gone, even counting her time in hypersleep. To start with, once they were in space, she would send a message to her dressmaker on Earth for new clothes, in different colours. It was time for her to put aside her mourning. 

She sometimes wondered what he would think to her traipsing around the known Universe, solving crimes, with an Automaton at her side and one of the finest ships in the Weyland fleet at her beck and call.  Why, he would laugh himself silly at the very idea.  Telling her that she was a bit too young to play Miss Marple, just yet.    

Though that laughter would likely be tempered by the knowledge that said Automaton held the ‘weapon’ that killed him and very nearly her as well.  It had taken a long time for Elizabeth to realise and make peace with the events that had happened on the planet designated Lima Victor 223.  

She knew now that David had been a puppet, with another pulling on his strings, but it had taken a long time to get to there and to remember the virtues her father had instilled in her of forgiveness to find solace.  

“Elizabeth,” David’s soft voice broke into her musings.  “I will sit watch,” he said.  He was standing in the doorway of her chamber, dressed in the same formal clothes as he had worn for dinner.  

“You don’t have to,” she pointed out, shaking her head, “We are perfectly safe here,”

“I know,” he replied.

“Very well,” Elizabeth agreed as she turned down the bed covers.  “I looked at the entertainment system earlier,” she noted, “They have _Lawrence of Arabia_ to view.”

David smiled, a true smile, at her words.  “I... thank you for telling me so,”  

“I was thinking of doing some reading in bed, so...” she mentioned.

“Good night, Elizabeth,” he replied.  

She nodded and turned towards the bed as he turned towards the living area and the entertainment unit that dominated one wall.  

A few moments later, she heard the thunderous drumbeats of Maurice Jarre’s overture to the film segue into the beautiful, exotic strings of the score.  It was a soothing sound.  

A moment later, she was tucked up in the warm embrace of the bed, a paper book in her hands but she could not bring her attention to focus on the words on the page.  Instead her thoughts drifted to the film playing out in the next room.  

She had finally seen the film a few months before, even though she had teased David that he had quoted the movie so much that she wasn’t sure that she actually needed to see it. She was wrong. 

Yes, Elizabeth could understand why David was so enamored of the film. It was a work of art and like all art, it gave her an insight into his psyche and to a lesser extent, her own.  

It was Lawrence’s relationship with Ali that gave rise to this insight.  Theirs was a friendship that went beyond the usual boundaries of such niceties.  Upon hearing Ali’s denial of love and his confession of fear for Lawrence or ‘Aurens’ as the Arabs he helped to lead had called him, Elizabeth had her own epiphany where David was concerned.  

In her heart, she did care for him but she also feared him.  He was no ordinary automaton in the same way that Lawrence was no ordinary man.  

But then she was no ordinary woman either. She had survived a mad man’s desire for immortality at the cost of losing the man she had loved. The knowledge gained, regarding the Engineers and the scientific breakthroughs from that ill-fated exhibition were small comfort. 

It had also allowed her to throw off the strictures of society’s demands. To make her own way in the world, with David as her companion. Like Lawrence, neither she or David were completely of one culture or another. Personally, she found the idea both freeing and a little frightening. As to what David thought, she had never had the courage to broach that topic to him. 

As the film started at the end, Elizabeth wondered if they were both Lawrence and Ali as their partnership required it in that moment of time. There were times when David was Ali to her Lawrence, guiding, shielding and counseling her and vice versa. 

As the film started at the end of Lawrence’s life, she wondered wryly, what their end would be. Separation in different worlds or something else? 

Her hand went to the cross she always wore. He knew what the future held for the pair of them but He had not deigned to inform them.  She would wait until then.  

Closing her book, she placed it on the bedside table before extinguishing the lamp and surrendering to the arms of Sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note on translations.  
> “SabaaH al-khayr,” : Good morning  
> “SabaaH an-nuur,”: Morning of Light, which I've been informed, is the correct reply.  
> “Shukran jaziilan,”: Thank you very much. 
> 
> If the above is incorrect, please correct me and I shall change asap. 
> 
> Title is a quote from _Lawrence of Arabia_ \- "With sheets? Tomorrownight, the finest sheets, in the finest room, in the finest hotel in Cairo"


End file.
